


Replacement

by nutm3g



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Gen, Gore, blood mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 13:06:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3291377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutm3g/pseuds/nutm3g
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever did happen to Bonnie's face?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Replacement

**Author's Note:**

> Humanized versions are used in this one as opposed to full-on animatrons. Sorry if you were expecting otherwise. If you want an actual design/description for them, credit goes to tumblr user birdapocalypse.

**_Ring around the rosie_ **

Fingers heated with a pseudo-warmth caress your cheeks. Trace along the cheekbones, over to the jawline, down to the plump lips that in any other situation might have gone as far as to clamp around the digits in a vice and bitten them clean off. But it’s different this time around. You’re on your knees, having been forced down by some entity you hadn’t quite sensed coming from behind; staring up at someone who resembles you to a frightening extent. Someone who looks like they could be-

“Your replacement. Didn’t hear me before? Maybe I should talk a little louder.”

His touch wanders to move locks of thick hair to the side, before they brush along the shell of your ear. You can’t quite suppress the disgusted shudder, nor quell the unease rising like bile in the back of your throat, and he smiles upon noticing. A smile full of malice. Malevolence. A deep, utter distaste that cuts into that smile and turns it sour.

“Or maybe  _you’re_ what the problem is.”

**_A pocket full of posies_ **

That sharp blow to the face is packed with nearly enough force to twist your head a full 360, and you’re positive you hear-  _feel_ – something crack as it cries out such an obscene noise. It does nothing to help you as far as pity goes. If anything it encourages him to laugh. A sickening cackle, split between ominous and foreshadowing, that reminds you more of a crow than all else.

There’s close to no time to compose yourself before another bone-breaking punch is aimed. This time, you’re positive he’ll break something.

**_CRACK!_ **

Where did he hit you?

_What’s broken?_

_W͢h͠ere i͏s ́t͞he b͞ĺǫod ̷coḿìng from?_

Your nose.

Red runs from it like snot from the nose of a sobbing child. You press around the area, focus momentarily gone askew due to sharp stings and swarms of pain running along your face. A hiss leaves clenched teeth, but it’s quick to be silenced when the sound of footsteps captures your attention again.

He takes a step closer in your direction. The apparent doppelgänger begins his circle like the predator he takes pride in being, steps slow and careful. Each thump of boot against worn tile is heavy, like concrete, each feather-light caress administered idly like shocks of electricity. When his cool touch finds your jaw once more, you flinch for the first time ever. Another means of entertainment for him.

“You’re cute,  _Bonnie_.” Emphasis is put on your name. You find yourself subconsciously sneering again.

“Even when you’re covered in all this blood.” Nausea surfaces.

“So cute, I just wanna take that face,” a warning red flashes in his eyes to match the sirens blaring in your mind.

“And tear it off.”

**_Ashes_ **

Muscles tense as his hands take your head in a rough grip, long fingers digging into the skin around your jaw. Your own fly up to close around his wrists, but everything’s going haywire with the pressure he’s putting on you and suddenly you can’t focus on one thing at a time.

**_Ashes_ **

You try to pry his hands off and back away simultaneously but you must be doing something wrong, because he does nothing but laugh in your face. He looms over to grin down at you, a long shadow casting over your entire being. And you can do nothing, if not stare up into the face of your attacker, of  _yourself_ in a variety of all-too bright colors, while he yanks, and yanks, and  _yanks_ ; until fingertips pop underneath the flesh like teeth through fruit and dig deep in to scoop the meaty interior out. Until there’s naught left but an empty sensation.

“Mn. I don’t like it as much as I thought I would. It looked prettier on you, but by itself?” He clucks his tongue, head shaking in disappointment, and drops the torn face like a slab of meat, crushing it underneath the heel of his boot. And you watch in horror through the remains of your eyes, albeit you can barely see through them. Shaking fingers attempt to probe at your face, but recoil in a twitch when you find a massive indent replacing the strong features. Something runs along your chin, your neck, the very top of your chest. You don’t need a nose to know what that is.

“Your job here has been terminated.” With a sneer all too similar to yours, he leans in too close for your own comfort; dips his head down to clean a single line of blood along your throat with his tongue. Like chocolate. His head raises once more to match gazes, a look of immense displeasure pressed firmly onto his face.

“And mine is to take out the trash.”

**_We all fall down_ **


End file.
